


cold

by Little Keplerette (classycloudcuckoolanderclasso)



Series: South Park Drabble Bomb May 2017: Outdoors [5]
Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, South Park Drabble Bomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:31:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classycloudcuckoolanderclasso/pseuds/Little%20Keplerette
Summary: Damien brings Pip some ice cream.





	cold

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Ice Cream - One of my favorite things is watching the seasonal ice cream stands pop up once the weather starts to warm. Is it actually warm enough for ice cream, or is your muse just excited about the fact that it’s open now? Have they wanted to go on this ice cream date all winter and are determined to go as soon as possible, no matter how cold it turns out? Are they the kind of person who can eat cold things year round, or do they need to be offsetting hotter temperatures? Does it bring up memories from last summer? Can you somehow manage to come up with something depressing with a prompt as pure as ‘ice cream?’ I’m looking at you, angst lovers.

It’s cold, very cold.

South Park had always been cold, Damien noticed, but never like this. It was most likely the last cold day of the winter season, and everyone was bundling up inside their homes, getting cozy in front of the fire, probably with hot chocolate, warm blankets, and lots of warm smiles. Tomorrow would be a new day - a much warmer day.

He didn’t need those, though. He was the son of Satan - he was his own personal hot water bottle.

“You sure you want ice cream today, son?” The store owner asks, genuinely curious. This boy with the pale skin and raven hair and bright red eyes and pointed skin, buying ice cream in the middle of the cold - he couldn’t lie, it intrigued him. “It’s cold uptown.”

“I know,” Damien tells him quietly, and paid for the ice cream. Two cups - one cookies-and-cream, and the other, vanilla, with little rainbow sprinkles.

Pip loved sprinkles.

Or ‘jimmies’, as he sometimes called them, when it was just the two of them with no one else to judge him.

Each step of his melts the snow beneath his feet, leaving visibly burnt tracks behind him as he walks uptown, past the Black mansion, Tweak Bros’ Coffee, past the borders of the town. There is only silence, punctuated only by Damien’s occasional breathing and the sounds of woodland critters scurrying around as he trudges through the forest, undisturbed.

Miraculously, neither of the ice cream scoops in the cups melt.

His pale cheeks are flushed red when he finally enters the small clearing in the forest, and it’s then that he finally speaks.

“Hey, Pip.”

He steps forward. There is an aura of uncertainty in his voice. “So, uh, I brought you ice cream. I know how much you like sprinkles, so... I got you some with sprinkles.”

Beat.

“You _do_ like vanilla, right?” The thirteen year old half-demon looks up in alarm all of a sudden. “I kind of forgot if you did, shit. I just- look, it’s got sprinkles. It’s still gotta be good. It’s a classic.”

Beat.

“I know it’s way too cold for ice cream... but hey. I’m here, right?”

Beat.

“You know, for...” Damien fumbles for words. “C... cuddling...? And stuff...?”

Beat.

“Shit, what am I even doing,” The Antichrist turns bright red in embarrassment as he shakes his head. “Look, just- I’m hot. Literally. You can tell me it’s cold all you want, but I’m literally a walking hot water bottle for your stupid British ass if you get cold or something.”

Beat.

Damien is half mortal. The boy has a steady heartbeat, just like any of the other children in South Park. He feels, just like any other, though a lot slower, and a lot more intense than the other children, due to being part demon.

Hence, his heart squeezes more painfully than normal when he gets no response.

With only a sigh, he places the cup of vanilla ice cream by the hat, surrounded by baby’s breath and angel’s trumpets. There is a thin layer of snow on the top of the hat, which he dusts off before he conjures up something he had been keeping in his room in Hell for today.

A burning rose.

He’d plucked it from his father’s garden. It was supposed to never die out, and always remain burning.

He plants said rose by the brim of the hat, the red bloom on fire the whole time as he does so, and when he finally stands back up to observe his handiwork, the memorial looks a little more cheery.

He looks back up at the sky. At Heaven.

“Fuck you, God!” He yells.

How many times has he screamed this to the heavens? Once? Twice? Too many times to count. He lost track after a hundred. It was his way of coping. The only way he knew how to genuinely grieve for the only friend he’d ever had since fourth grade - besides McCormick, but he didn’t count, in Damien’s thirteen-year old eyes.

He had waited for Pip, when he had died.

Waited for his only friend to come to Hell.

And he didn’t.

A temper tantrum later, and he had discovered that the previously stated ‘Only Mormons go to Heaven’ statement had once again been debunked.

God had taken Pip.

He had taken Pip from Damien, and now Damien would never get to see him again.

Damien hated to admit it, but it _stung._

“Why did you have to be so goddamn _nice_ all the time, damn it,” Damien kicks over the ice cream cup he brought for Pip, but before he spills he rights it again, sighing in defeat.

His fingers brush over the hat again. Pip’s hat. The only thing that had been left of him after his death.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow, Pip,” He mumbles, and, hesitantly, he brushes his lips ever so slightly against the brim of the hat. His father did that to him, all the time, before he went to school in the mornings. Said it was an expression of how much he cared for him.

Damien cared for Pip.

And he hadn’t told him in time.

Picking up his cup of ice cream, Damien stands up, and, with only one final glance back at his makeshift memorial, he turns around, and heads back to town.

For the first time in his life. Damien feels cold.


End file.
